Red Wine Stain
by kswanqueen
Summary: Some kind of DarkOne AU. It all starts with a red wine stain on a persian carpet.


**Hey there! So, I'm kinda sorry for writing this. I was inspired during class and well... here it is.  
** **I just wanna say that every review and/or advice is more than welcome.**

 **I also want to apologize since English is not my first language (I'm from Italy!) and there may be some grammar or vocabulary mistakes.**

 **By the way, this story is kind of a Dark!One AU (really don't know how I came up with tis freakin' fanfiction).**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Lots of love and pasta, of course!**

* * *

There was a stain of red wine on the carpet. It was Persian. Now she had to take it to "Carpets Wash", or, probably, she could remove the stain by herself, without spending a fortune. She opted for the second one: she couldn't afford a professional washing.

Emma Swan wasn't good at removing stains, well, she wasn't actually good at manual works. Maybe she could just throw it away. Why did she even care about? It wasn't expensive, actually, she bought it, because it was the cheapest one. _It would be better off in the trash_ , she thought to herself; but, somehow, it felt completely wrong. Just the mere thought made her antsy. She tried to focus and remember the day she bought the carpet, about five years before. It was mid-July, in short she'd start working for a new law firm – that day she got a call from her new boss, saying she'd start on Monday morning – and couldn't be happier. Therefore, to celebrate, she decided to go shopping for the apartment; she never liked apartments, or houses, full of furniture, so decided to buy a carpet. It was not of good quality, but the Safavid-style design was elegant and kind of fancy to Emma's eyes. _It might add a certain something at the living room_ , she thought and decided to take it.

It was now clear it didn't mean anything, she could safely throw it away.

The question was how the wine shed on the carpet and she didn't remember having bought a bottle, but she must have done that, otherwise nothing would explain the patch. _Why did I buy wine? I'm not a wine-drinker._

Her head was killing her, so she definitely drank the wine.

 _I can't focus. Maybe I was angry and then decided to bottle the rage and drink it instead. God, that's so cliché. C'mon, why was I angry? -_ Emma really tried to focus, but nothing came to her mind – _Something's completely wrong. I have scratches on my arms, that's not promising; maybe I hurt myself on my way home (duh, Emma!). Think positive._

 **Last Friday night  
Yeah I think we broke the law  
Always say we're gonna stop  
**

 _Nope, stop being so lame Emma. This is not funny at all. Figure out what happened._

* * *

Emma spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to remember, but there was a blank space in her memory. Suddenly rage hit her and she ran in the living room, just a thing in her mind: burn the damn carpet. She couldn't stand seeing the bloody patch every single day. The carpet was less than important, it was absolutely nothing, yet she desired its burning, the flames would erase that mistake. She realized she was being obsessive, but she did not care.

Once again, she saw the red stain and then everything was red, her mind

became fuzzy, everything was moving and heard a laughter and _Swan Lake theme? Seriously?_ When she regained consciousness the world had its usual colors and, fortunately, it wasn't moving.

All of a sudden Emma started crying, the world felt so surreal, irrational; world changed and she sensed danger. _That's a weird power. Let's be honest, how can you sense danger? It's not real, it's not made of matter._

 _It's an abstract concept. You don't sense it, Emma. You're just acting so weird because you heard a man laugh and Swan Lake theme. And you don't have a roommate, or a stereo, or Swan Lake soundtrack (you don't even like the ballet). Let's be real, Emma. You can't sense danger, you simply can't. No, you don't sense it: you_ _ **feel**_ _it. You can hear it whisper in your ear, it gives you creeps. No, you just have a feeling, a sensation: you can't feel it like you feel a human being. It's not real. It's just in my head._

"Indeed I am." she heard a voice say. It wasn't deep, yet screamed power, it felt corrupted by darkness.

"Don't worry, dearie, I'm not here to corrupt you. You already are." - he let out an amused, yet hideous, chuckle.

 _Corrupted? What is he talking about?_

"Don't play dumb, Emma. I lived inside your head for a long time, I know you."

 _How can he live inside of me? This is way beyond understanding._

"Well, dearie, I think you deserve an explanation. As you might know, we are not completely good and not completely evil. You know, they coexist. I merely represent the evil inside of you; I know your deepest wishes, your fears, I know how to use them and to make you a dark soul, as I am. I can suck the life out of you, yet give her to you, rip out the courage and the purity of that sweet, little heart of yours. I can turn you into dust." he explained and Emma frowned.

"Really? Good and evil? Life's no fairy tale. Stop mocking, keep it real."

"Oh, poor unfortunate soul. I'm more than real, I am you: I'm your anger, your rage, I'm the most complex feelings in your heart and head."

"OK, let's assume I believe you; you're not in my head anymore, you got out?" _This is straight outta Stephen King's novels._ Emma looked around, no one to be seen.

"Don't be silly, dearie! I'm still in you head, but this doesn't mean I can't be seen." once again he chuckled; Emma bet he was grinning.

Emma concentrated and closed her eyes, now she needed to see this evil monster. _Bloody hell, Emma, focus. See the evil thing._

"Feel the rage, Emma." his voice had deepened and was demanding.

She opened her eyes and saw a man, _or more like a tall imp?_ , with an amused smirk on his face. They glared at each other, she was looking straight in the face of evil.

"Welcome to your nightmare, dearie".

 _What have I done? Stupid Emma! What have you done? You're so stupid._

"No, Emma, you're quite smart. You made the best choice. I have great plans for us. Listen to me, – Emma covered her ears with her hands, but she still heard him, he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time – you're corrupted Emma, you are darkness. You've always been, but that stupid mother of yours was too oblivious to actually see it. She made you believe you where some kind of a princess, a girl with a soul as with as snow, she forced you to be pure and innocent! Here's the truth: you're not. You are fake, everything you are is just a façade your mother built and you couldn't resist. Emma, stop being a sweet, innocent and naïve girl, we both know you're not. You are dark. We are darkness".

Meanwhile, Emma started crying, his words made her upset. _He's lying, he's lying, he's lying. I'm not fake. I'm not a façade._

"Please, stop. You're driving me insane. I can't - " Her voice crackled.

"Of course you can dearie, you just have to accept your dark path."

"There's no dark path, - Emma felt anger fill her chest - there's no darkness in me!"

"Here it is! Anger! You're angry, that's a good start." he was about to chuckle again, but she gave him a hateful glare, "Emma, do you want to be nothing? You know, darkness is power. You have control, the world is finally rational. I know how you hate instability and irrationality, I know _you –_ he raised his voice – and do you _really_ want to be nothing?"

 _Do you want to be nothing... Darkness is power..._

 _Do you really want to be nothing..._

"Shut up you imp, I was **never** nothing!"

He grinned and glared at her. "You're not strong enough, Emma. You can't win me".

"You may think I'm not, but I am strong. You won't drive completely crazy, you won't have the last piece of mental stability I have left. You won't have me" Emma hissed.

"I see. You're determined, I appreciate that, but, if you fight me, you'll die. Nobody will save you from yourself, nobody will be your savior and end your misery".

Emma approached the library and opened the drawer; "What the hell do you think you're doing, Emma?" she could sense worry in his voice.

"I'm being my own savior" she pulled out a gun and, without second thoughts, she pointed it to her temple.

"Don't you dare pull that trigger, Emma! This is not how it was supposed to be".

"No one is master of my own fate, but me".

 _Boom._

Emma pulled the trigger.


End file.
